


obviously

by seconddaysea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2722976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seconddaysea/pseuds/seconddaysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's unrequited, as are all of his loves, but this time he's got years of experience under his belt and he refuses to fuck up the only relationship that's lasted longer than a year. So he buries the feelings deep, until layers and layers of denial and shitty excuses, telling himself that no, Oikawa's not that fucking attractive, absolutely he's as big a fucktard as he seems to be, and there's no way in hell he could ever be in love with someone like that. Obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	obviously

**Author's Note:**

> idk man.  
> this is pretty bad.

His first love—childish and sweet—is in the first year of middle school, when he catches himself gazing wistfully at a third year student. He holds that love for a full year, never speaking a word to that other boy, content to just watch and long. It is a transient love, and it fades once the boy graduated, though he can still taste the bitterness of jealousy on his tongue, watching the girls ask for the second button and wishing it were him instead. It is a light, corny blue though, and blue has always been his favorite color.

He meets Oikawa around then too, a pretty boy who moves in down the street and immediately insists they're best friends.

"Whatever," Hajime says. 

His second love—reckless and young—is in his third year of middle school. He comes to terms with himself by then, learning how to handle the feelings, learning to smother them before every breath he took could fuel the fire. He tells himself to give up and nearly does. There is a younger student in love with him, a kid on the volleyball team who says pretty words like "I've always admired you" and "I'll do anything for you".  _Why not?_  He had thought at the time, but he quickly learned that feelings didn't work like that and all it does is leave a poor kid with a broken heart and him feeling the color gray, something dark and guilty.

"Are you gay?" Oikawa asks him, one day after practice. Hajime gives him a look, bewildered and scared, and Oikawa laughs. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone. You're my best friend; I gotta keep your secrets."

His third love—desperate and shy—is full of firsts. His first kiss, his first date, his first boyfriend. The boy in particular, a fellow third year in high school, with longish brown hair, is kind. He gives it a chance, but asks to keep it a secret. "I'm still new at this and I don't think I'm ready to let people know." He understood, he didn't mind. At first it was the color blue too, even prettier than the first time, but then it turned black and ugly, when the secret came out and everything started to go wrong.

"I never liked that guy anyway," Oikawa says. "Don't worry about the rumors, we're going to college soon and we'll escape this place. How about I choose your next boyfriend for you?" Hajime has to resist the urge to throttle his so-called best friend. But Asskawa has a point and Hajime looks forward to March, looks forward to moving away from their tiny town and onto someplace bigger.

His fourth love—hot and loveless—is not what he wishes it would be. It tastes like red. He's in his first year of college and he finds a tall, fashionable coworker at the restaurant attractive. Maybe it's the power of an adult, but his feelings are seen through within days, if not minutes or seconds. But "I don't mind if it's just for sex," the guy says and Hajime gives in. It's his first experience and he takes to it rather enthusiastically. But soon things get complicated, because "we're just fuck buddies" starts to actually bother him more than it gets him excited and he tries to call it off.

Oikawa tells him, "I told you that was a bad idea," and Hajime secretly agrees, even though Oikawa has said no such thing. He deletes the man's number from his phone, quits his job, moves to a smaller place that's a little closer to school.

His fifth love—stupid and all-encompassing—knocks him breathless.

He's twenty years old when he realizes for the first time that he's in love with his best friend. See, it hits him much like he imagines a car would, without much warning save for a whistling in his ears and the color is so gold its blinding.

It's unrequited, as are all of his loves, but this time he's got years of experience under his belt and he refuses to fuck up the only relationship that's lasted longer than a year. So he buries the feelings deep, until layers and layers of denial and shitty excuses, telling himself that no, Oikawa's not that fucking attractive, obviously he's as big a fucktard as he seems to be, and there's no way in hell he could ever be in love with someone like that.

It's easy when Oikawa is being his crappy self—the one that teases Iwaizumi and makes him feel bad about himself. It's solved with just a swift punch or a kick and Oikawa's enough of a monster to laugh it off. But Oikawa is a constant presence at his side and there are moments. Every once in a while, there's a glimmer of something more. Something terribly, horrendously, devastatingly lovely.

His life is made up of little moments like that, and he's in love with his best friend.

 

* * *

 

"Iwa-channn."

He drags himself out of bed after the fifth time his name is called. Not because it's Oikawa, but because he can hear his neighbor starting to get antsy, moving around and complaining about what kind of idiot is making noise in the middle of the day like this.

 _His kind of idiot_ , Hajime thinks to himself, resigned. He's looking through his window, the dust on the sill clinging to his sticky skin. He rubs it with his palm, looking at Oikawa standing there in the street, the relief on his face when Hajime appears, and it's one of those moments. He can feel his heart thumping.

"What?" He has to raise his voice to call down four floors and he tries to be considerate of his neighbors.

Oikawa is less thoughtful. His voice comes through loud and clear. "She cheated on me. On meeee, Iwa-chan. Let me up already, my ice cream is melting." 

Hajime sighs, makes a vague gesture cause it's too hot to even speak, and Oikawa gives him a gross smile, disappearing into the lobby. Hajime presses a button near the wall to let Oikawa through the door and then moves in a circle around his room, throwing things out and clearing up some space before Oikawa comes through.

He bursts in kind of like a storm, already in the middle of some rant. He keeps talking, even as he takes a detour into the kitchen to shelve what sounds like an entire store's worth of ice cream and even more cans of beer.

When he comes into Hajime's room though, he only has one can of beer and an already opened cup of ice cream. The spoon is in his mouth as he sits, looking much like Hajime envisions a kicked puppy would look. Oikawa is handing him the beer and no sooner does Hajime take it than he's throwing himself on the bed and sucking audibly on the wooden spoon in his mouth. "She cheated on me," he repeats and though it sounds more like "sthh theathed ahn ee", Hajime's an expert in Oikawa and knows exactly what he means.

He cracks open the can and tilts his head back as he drinks. Beer is bitter and kind of disgusting when you think about it, but it feels good on his tongue and as it washes away the dust in his mouth. He drains half the can in one gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his hand when he's done and moves down to the floor, stretching his legs out under the table and letting Oikawa have the bed. He feels the boy shift behind him, flipping onto his back instead.

"I dunno what I even did. Why'd she cheat on me? Am I not attractive?" He punctuates each sentence with a bite of ice cream.

"You've got girls falling all over you."

"Then why?"

"Maybe she just wanted you to pay more attention to her."

"I was planning to marry her!"

He doesn't even bat an eye. "You were not." 

Oikawa sounds miffed, "You don't know that." 

"You didn't even remember her birthday last week."

"I asked you to remind me."

"Get over it." 

A sloppy sucking sound from Oikawa's mouth. "I can't believe she did that to me."

"Anyone would be lucky to have you," he relents, and maybe he sounds a little too relenting, because Oikawa snaps at him.

"Jeez, when did you fall in love with me, Iwa-chan?" Hajme thinks he's heard a song that went something like that before, but it certainly hadn't sounded like this, accusing and hurt. He doesn't know what to say, but Oikawa doesn't wait for an answer. "You can at least pretend you care."

He doesn't reply to that either, because it's too close for comfort and quick as it comes, Oikawa's annoyance is seeping away under another wave of something else. Hajime is just confused. Oikawa for all his acting doesn't seem to care much either. 

"Iwa-chan."

"Hmm?" He turns to look, and Oikawa's just holding the cup out for him to take. The table is too far away. 

"Fucking lazy," Hajime says, but he takes it anyway, shifting his beer to the other hand. He can't remember why he does this, really. Why he puts up with this selfish, spoiled douchebag and all his girlfriends. They never last either, because Oikawa is Oikawa and he cares more about himself than anything—anyone—else. 

"Wait," Oikawa says, after a few minutes. "I want my ice cream back."

"It's melted already."

Oikawa moans as if the world has just ended, and there's a hard thud. When Hajime turns to look, Oikawa's curled away from him, towards the window. His knees are against the wall, the source of the sound, presumably.

"Oi, do you still want it?" The cup is forming a cold spot on his palm. When there's no response, Hajime touches the sweating can to Oikawa's neck and laughs when Oikawa shoots up, managing to look both outraged and offended. 

"Iwa-chan—"

Hajime ignores him. His legs are numb and his hands are full, but he uses his elbows to get up, resettling himself on the bed. He shoves the ice cream back into Oikawa's hands, scooting back against the wall and stretching his legs out before him.

Before long, Oikawa is doing the same, cradling the paper cup with its pool of melted caramel ice cream in his hands.

He doesn't mind not talking like this, but Oikawa is rarely ever so quiet and the silence is strange. He glances at the other man, taking another sip. It's starting to lose its chill and lukewarm beer tastes sour.

"Say, Iwa-chan?"

"Mm?"

"Would you get mad at me if I spill this?"

"Yes," he says emphatically. "Is that what you've been thinking about this whole time?"

Oikawa doesn't respond, tilting the cup in small circles, making it froth up. Then quietly: "Not just that." 

"Give it," Iwaizumi says. He snatches it before anything can happen, half-crawling to put it on the table where its safe. Then he goes back, pulling at his shirt collar where sweat is making it stick to his skin.

"Say, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa starts again.

He sighs when he responds, reminding himself that the guy just got dumped. "What?"

"How'd you know you're gay?"

He knows there should be a volatile reaction right now, but it's just too damn hot. All he can do is sigh, one that's so long it feels like his soul begins to depart his body. "Asskawa, are you stupid?"

Oikawa folds his legs against his chest, resting his cheek on his knee. And he's watching, with those great big cow eyes. Another moment, right there. There's so many, he's losing count. He wishes they'd lose effect.

"C'mon Iwa-chan, I haven't asked cause I was being sensitive, but now I want to know."

"Why the fuck would you want to know?" 

"Iwa-chan," he says seriously, "I just got dumped you know."

Hajime punches him in the leg. "That has nothing to do with it."

Oikawa laughs softly as he rubs the spot, "Then just humor me because I'm your best friend and you have no secrets from me."

_Oh,_  Hajime thinks,  _if only that were true._  But it's hot, the beer has soaked into his blood, and Oikawa is looking irresistible right now, with a few strands of brown hair plastered to his forehead, with the collar of his shirt fanning open, his eyes fringed with too-long lashes.

Moments upon moments upon moments.

Another sigh. "I always knew," he says finally, and he has to chase down the taste of those words with a swig of tepid beer.

"Always? Like when you were born you already knew?"

"Are you  _trying_  to be this stupid?" 

Oikawa cracks up and even though Hajime is annoyed as all hell, the sight of Oikawa laughing without restraint is what he's been waiting for this whole time. So he doesn't talk, tipping his head back as he drinks the rest, letting it drip onto his tongue, crumpling it in a fist and tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room. 

He misses and Oikawa crawls off the bed, scooping it and dropping it inside, before going back to the kitchen. He returns with two new beers. "Here," he says, and it's already in the air. Hajime catches the can before it hits him in the crotch, shooting Oikawa a dirty look that the boy deflects with a sweet smile. 

"Drink with me," he demands instead, and they pop the tops together. "So what were you saying...oh right. Tell me more."

"What's there to tell?" 

"Have you ever liked a girl? What kind of guys are your type? How far have you ever gone? Is there someone—" 

He's going off as if he'll never stop, so Hajime cuts him off quick. "Why the hell do you care all of a sudden?" 

The man sucks on his lip before responding and it's so fucking attractive Hajime swears he's going to die. "Well..." he says, drawing out the word, "I realized Iwa-chan's always dealing with my relationship stuff, so I figured I should return the favor." 

"Last time I told you anything you said—and I quote—'How about I choose the next guy for you?'," he says, and as stupid and oblivious as that was the first time, it's so 'Oikawa Tooru' that Hajime doesn't even care. 

"Oh?" He says, and it's just like him to forget completely. "Well did I find someone for you?" 

Hajime gives him a long side-eye, then shakes his head. 

"Oh," Oikawa says again, and he sounds vaguely amused. "Well, I'll find someone good for you. And, and—how about you find someone for me—" He stops. "No...that wouldn't work. Iwa-chan, I don't trust in your taste." 

"Shittykawa, what are you trying to say—"

But Oikawa bursts into laughter again, and he grabs Hajime's wrist, forcing them to tap the cans together. "Cheers!" he says, "To drinking away the pain of our loveless lives!"

"Oi, watch it—" Hajime warns, because his can is still full, but it spills out just as he says it, trickling over his fingers. 

And then, before he knows what's happening, Oikawa's lips are on his hand, sucking at the beer, licking the rivulet starting down his wrist, making things wetter than they already are. Oikawa's fingers are still wrapped around his arm, but Hajime couldn't have pulled away even if he wanted to. This is a moment too, not one of the smaller ones. 

He watches, stunned, as Oikawa's tongue flicks out, slipping between his fingers and when the man finally releases Hajime's hand, when he pulls back licking at a drop on his own thumb, all Hajime can manage is a strangled, " _What the fuck_." 

Oikawa grins, taking a sip from his can as if nothing's even happened. "You said you'd get mad if I spill." 

"What the fuck," he says again, because his fingers are still tingling where Oikawa's lips have been, and it's starting to go up his arm and it's  _too fucking hot_  for this. 

"Something wrong, Iwa-chan?" 

He looks so damn pleased with himself, wearing satisfaction like a second skin. Hajime is torn between full-blown anger, and simply being fully-blown, because fuck fuck _fuck_ , why of all people does it have to be Oikawa? 

"No," he says, with enough force for Oikawa to raise a slender brow. 

"If something's wrong, you can always tell me, you know." 

"Nothing," he says again, and he knows no one's buying it. But Oikawa is his best friend, his only friend maybe, and he's lasted two years smothering these feelings so deep they're all but forgotten. Until Oikawa does something like this. 

"Say, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa asks for the third time and Hajime doesn't even have the presence of mind to respond. He just squints a little and Oikawa seems to take that as permission to continue. "When did you fall in love with me?" 

If he were drinking beer, he'd have spit it by now. Fortunately, he's not, but he manages to jump bad enough to slosh more beer and it lands on his shirt like a cold, wet slap. 

"When?" Oikawa asks again, and it's like he's completely oblivious to everything else because he hasn't made a move to do anymore clean ups with his tongue. (Hajime doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.) 

"When what?" The beer is cold and he's frozen in place, because moving would mean dripping all over the place now. 

"Did you fall in love with me?"

"Who says I fell in love with anyone, much less you?" 

"I do." 

"You're really fucking stupid, you know that?" Hajime snaps, deciding to focus on his stained shirt instead of the terrible, terrible direction this conversation is going. "Are you going to help me or not?" 

The corner of Oikawa's lips quirk down, but he takes the can Hajime is holding and he stands up to place them both on the table. 

And then he turns back towards the bed, and if Hajime were paying a little more attention, he'd have noticed the look on Oikawa's face; the one that he always wore before he was about to do something really fucking terrible. 

But he didn't notice, and suddenly he was being tugged, twisted so he was lengthwise on the bed, hands caught by the wrists and pinned above his head, trapped in place by a pair of legs on either side of his hips and Oikawa's weight right over a very dangerous place to be.

"Asskawa," he says, very low, very quiet. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" 

He can see the look now, and at this point he'd be using violence to get Oikawa to behave, but in this position he's pretty compromised, his hands are sticky with alcohol, and he desperately doesn't want to get his sheets dirty. 

Priorities. 

"I," Oikawa says, "am getting answers to my questions." 

"Like hell you are. Get off." 

"Not until you answer me." 

"Get. Off." 

Oikawa grins, presses Hajime's wrists down a little harder in the pillows, and whispers, "Make me." Abruptly, the hands pinning his arms in place are gone, but suddenly his shirt is flying up and Oikawa's fingers are trailing up his abs and Hajime forgets what he was supposed to do. 

Then he remembers, and he clutches his shirt, jamming it back down. "Shittykawa," he says, with venom in his voice, "if you don't get off me right fucking now—"

"—You'll what? Kiss me?"

"The hell—? No—" He says, and then he  _is_  being kissed and he must be drunker than he thought, because he feels like he's melting. Oikawa tastes like caramel and beer and something sweeter underneath, and he's so good at this it must be illegal. 

When they break apart, Hajime's head is spinning.  _Must be drunk_ , he thinks,  _there's no other explanation._  

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa whispers against his lips. 

"Mmm?" 

"Are you trash? Cause I wanna take you out." 

He finds his voice. "I'm going to kill you, I swear to god. That's a fucking one-liner from the internet—"

"If that's your only problem, does that mean it's a yes?" Oikawa laughs, pulling back. His cheeks are kind of red, but he's grinning like mad. "Iwa-chan, I think I found you someone to date. They're super attractive, like the most attractive person in the world maybe." 

"Get off me."

He continues like he hasn't heard. "They're smart and funny, and pretty much perfect, really." 

"Oi—"

"I'm one hundred percent sure they're your type."

"Asskawa—"

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa says to cut him off, and his voice has dropped to some level of seriousness that gets Hajime to stop for a second. "I am super homo for you, you know." 

Hajime's so pissed off he can't speak. Who even _says_ shit like that? Who asks someone out with a liner like that? Who was that unbelievably stupid? He still hasn't forgotten about the stain on his shirt, which has spread to his blankets, exactly what he didn't want. He narrows his eyes at the man hovering above him and the sunshine around him, trickling in from the window makes Oikawa glow gold. So brightly it's hard to keep his eyes directly on him. Fortunately, Oikawa finally seems to take the hint.

"Okay, be calm, Iwa-chan. I'm going to get off you now. Nice and easy," Oikawa says, and he speaks slowly, like he's talking to a child. 

"Hurry up," is all Hajime says and Oikawa slides off, his hands raised in front of him as if preparing for an attack. 

It does no good, because Hajime's had way too much practice at this and his kicks are lightning fast. He nails Oikawa in the side with a beautiful kick and the man yelps. "That's not how you confess, Shittykawa." 

He sits up, and his shirt clings uncomfortably to his skin, the beer starting to smell. Annoyed, he pulls off his shirt and throws it towards the door, onto the pile of clothes waiting to be washed. Standing up, he moves to his closet and finds a new one to wear, smelling it to make sure it's clean. 

When he turns back, Oikawa's eyes are raking up his chest and there's a flick of a tongue across lips—which he now knows, firsthand, how soft they are—and this moment isn't one he's going to forget ever, probably. He pauses, the shirt hanging from his hands. Then he drops the shirt and cross his arms, rubbing the back of his head impatiently. "If you're going to ask me out, do it again. Better." 

**Author's Note:**

> no edits, because i'm laaaaaaaazyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.  
> it was kind of supposed to be more porny but I kind of...didn't want to write it.......hahaha  
> honestly though i don't even think it's cohesive so idk what i'm complaining about. I just wanted to write stuff and tada this is what happened.  
> ok ok, goodnight.


End file.
